Chapter 23

Antoinette and her mother arrived at the annual mother/daughter banquet in her mother's limo. Her mother's third cigarette clouded the air in the large car. Antoinette sniffed the thickening smoke and wondered what ever happened to life-long smokers getting lung cancer or emphysema. Her mother seemed immune. Seventy-five years old, still rail thin and puffing away. Lung cancer had killed her father at fifty-nine, but mom never took his death as an object lesson.

"Mother, must you light one up off the other? That's so cracker!"

Her mother knew her smoking pissed off her daughter; otherwise, she would have quit years ago. "Annie, stop bitching, it's not pretty." What's the good of longevity if you can't twist a finger into your children's flaws?

Antoinette turned to look out through the smoky glass at the entrance to the country club, the twin columns brightly lit by spotlights.

"Mother, we've been coming to these all my life. I would love to go home sometime not smelling of a North Carolina tobacco barn." She sniffed the thick air and screwed up her face.

Her mother ignored her.

The driver pulled up to the portico and stopped. A young high school senior hired by the country club to act as doorman for the event opened the rear door and held out his hand to Charlotte McAndrews. Antoinette's mother took his hand and swung her leg out giving him a good view of her wrinkled, but firm legs. When his eyes widened she grinned at him and stood up. Antoinette got out the other side by herself not noticing her mother's little game.

Charlotte slipped a twenty into the boy's hand and pinched his ass. Antoinette saw the slutty gesture as she rounded the limo. She took her mother's arm and escorted her inside. "Mother, must you be so public with your little games." She tried to sound unconcerned, but knew the bitchiness glowed through.

The old woman laughed. "It gives them such a thrill to be felt up by an old lady. They just never expect it."

"Well, stop it, Mother. It's embarrassing." The women entered the banquet hall and stopped to see who had already arrived.

"Annie, do you see Hazel Waltman? I want to talk to her desperately. She caught her husband banging his secretary in their bed last week, and I can't get any details anywhere."

"Mother, how traumatic for the poor woman!"

"Oh, I don't know. Knowing Hazel she might have jumped in too." Charlotte wiggled her eyebrows and smirked.

"Mother! How can you say such a thing?"

Charlotte reached for her pack of cigarettes. "You can't smoke in here." Antoinette quickly pointed out.

Charlotte dropped the pack back into her silk purse, "Our board of directors are butt-boys for the anti-smoking crowd. I should buy us some new ones."

"Mother, you can be so... oh... sometimes."

The old woman sneered, "You seem a little wound up tonight. Your tennis lessons don't seem to be keeping you as relaxed as they used to."

Antoinette gave her mother a defiant look. "My tennis lessons are none of your damn business."

"Oh, Annie, don't shit me! I took tennis lessons for thirty-years and never learned to play for crap. Your father used to get so mad when we played doubles about how poorly I played for the number of lessons I took. He never had a clue."

"I don't want to hear this; there's our seats." Antoinette pointed at their placeholders.

A young man came up and stood between them. The women looked up at the handsome young black man whose nametag read "Malcolm," who said, "What may I get you this evening?"

Charlotte's gaze slowly raked over this tuxedo. "I'll start with a martini, and I want you to think of me as your favorite girl here tonight." She slipped a fifty into his palm. He wasn't supposed to accept tips, but a quick glance at the picture of the Civil War general inspired him to make an exception.

Antoinette gave her mother the look, and said, "I'll have a cosmopolitan."

He bowed and left.

"Mother! Must you say suggestive things like that to young boys, especially to young niggras? How much did you tip him?"

"Damn it, Annie. Stop trying to be my mother. The boy loved it. I could tell." She opened her purse and pulled out a small pad of post-it notes. She began writing.

"Mother, doing business at the club?"

"Oh, dear. Just a reminder of something I don't want to forget."

Malcolm loved the old lady's flirting. His balls had no conscience. The old broad was hot in a weird sort of way. He had never tapped into Social Security pussy, but she did look frisky.

He hustled the bartender along, the place was filling up and he wanted to get back to the old lady with her martini. While her daughter was his usual preference, Charlotte had crawled under his skin.

He hustled back to the ballroom and set the drink in front of her. "Here you are, Mrs. McAndrews."

Charlotte smiled and said, "Thank you, Malcolm." She slipped a bill into his fingers. He tucked it discretely into his pocket. "You hurry back, I'm going to be needing another soon."

Antoinette sipped her cosmopolitan and looked over the crowd. No one new. Everyone's still here, older and fatter. Except mother. How she stays so thin I'll never know.

Malcolm slipped around into a side hallway and checked his latest tip. Another fifty! He unfolded the bill and saw the small slip of paper stuck to it. It was a small post-it note that read, "Ladies room, five minutes after the program starts. CM."

Shit! The old broad is looking for some. He turned over the bills in his fingers. A hundred bucks, I could take this and stand her up. I don't need to get involved. But there could me more where this came from. I need money for college. I just never thought about fucking to get it.

Malcolm hustled back to work. Just before the wife of the country club president called the meeting to order he passed by Charlotte. "Need another, ma'am?"

Charlotte whispered, "I haven't gotten my first yet, Malcolm. Oh, you mean my drink! Yes, I'll have another." He hustled off certain he wasn't misreading the old broad's intentions.

When he served her drink, he whispered, "That was a lovely note."

Charlotte beamed at him. "Thank you, Malcolm." She slipped another bill in his fingers.

Malcolm slipped around into his hiding place and saw it was another fifty. He found a spot by the wall to watch as the president's wife stood at the podium and began her speech. They weren't supposed to serve drinks while the program was on. Malcolm noted the time and watched Charlotte.

The club president was introducing the evening's main speaker, a woman Malcolm had never heard of before, when Charlotte leaned over to her daughter and said something to her. He could see them quietly arguing, and then Charlotte stood up and walked out of the hall. Malcolm slipped out the side door and made it to the ladies room as Charlotte arrived. She looked both ways and pulled him inside.

The room was empty. The employees weren't allowed to use this bathroom and all the female members were listening to the speech. Charlotte pulled the boy to the large handicapped stall. "Sit down." Malcolm sat; she sounded like she knew what she wanted. The tall thin woman stood before him and pulled up her evening dress. Her legs were as skinny and wrinkled as her arms, and she hiked her dress up above a flesh-colored thong. He stared at the underwear. She giggled, "What? Never seen a thong on your grandma?" He laughed and shook his head. Her long painted nails pulled aside the crotch. "Lick me, boy. Taste granny's cunt."

Malcolm didn't hesitate and dove into Charlotte's perfumed pussy. He had many hours of flight time pleasing young women and knew just the places to land his tongue. In moments, Charlotte was pressing forward, riding his tongue as it whipped her pussy juices to a boil. She let herself ride out her orgasm. The boy was a wonder with his tongue. It was longer than many of the cocks she had taken since her husband had died leaving her the money and the opportunity to act out the fantasies she suppressed when they were married.

"Damn, that was good." She kissed him and licked her juices from his shining face. "Let me see it. Are you hard?"

Malcolm leaned back on the toilet and unzipped his pants. He released his nine-inches of black meat. Charlotte licked her lips. "Damn, boy. I wish I had a soft floor right now. I would love to suck that hard cock of yours. I think we just have time to fuck. Rip these panties off me."

Jackson didn't rip them off, but he skinned them down in record time. She straddled him and positioned his cock at her pussy lips. Sinking down she moaned and said, "I love big black cocks. Yours is super, baby. It fills me up so good." She immediately started to ride his long, fat cock.

When her mother didn't return in a few minutes, Antoinette grew worried. She said to Brenda Sue Allman, to her left, "I think mother may be ill, I better go see."

Brenda whispered, "You go. Let me know if you need anything."

Antoinette found the ladies room and softly opened the door. The sounds leapt from the room. Her mother's frantic voice demanding someone to "fuck me harder."

Shit! How is this possible, we're here fifteen minutes and she's got a cock up her cunt? Antoinette slowly entered the room. The sounds came from the last stall. She tiptoed to the door and peeked through the crack at her mother's naked ass riding a huge black cock. Holy fuck! Look at this size of that thing. Can she still do this? Fuck big cocks like that? She could injure herself.

Her mother's ass rose and fell on the long stalk. Antoinette could hear her demanding voice, "Fuck me, you hot stud. Give granny your big dick."

She put her eye to the door and recognized the black boy who took their drink orders. Her mother was fucking a waiter in the ladies room of their country club. The cock split open her mother and all her juices were running out down the long length of meat stuffing her.

Antoinette could see he was much bigger that Bart, her tennis coach. He wasn't as big as her husband's, but she hadn't seen that one much lately. He looked delicious. Antoinette looked through the closed door and slipped her fingers up under her dress.

Malcolm saw movement and looked down at the black high heels on the other side of the stall door. He was either busted or she was into watching. If he were busted then he would just fuck the old lady until he was interrupted and fired. If she were a voyeur then he'd give her a fucking show. So he bucked up hard into Charlotte, but the shoes didn't move. He saw a flutter of black and saw a pair of expensive black panties settling on the shoes. No trouble was on the way, he realized. He now had a spectator. His hands took Charlotte's ass in a firm hold and yanked her down on his cock in long driving strokes. "Oh, fuck me, Malcolm. Do it hard. Fuck granny's cunt."

Antoinette was appalled at her mother's language and it's incestuous reference. The boy didn't mind she could see. I hope he can't hear how wet my cunt is, Mother. Masturbating while watching you fuck is too hot for words.

Jackson rimmed Charlotte's asshole with his index finger. He gathered up some cunt juice and started to double fuck the old bitch. She was making a lot of noise as he reamed her out while fucking her. He hoped that lady on the other side of the door was getting off on it. He sure was. He had a big load ready for Charlotte's cunt. "Cum, you fucking bitch." He breathed into her ear. "Come all over my cock."

"Fuck yes, make me cum, boy. Fuck your granny's cunt 'til it comes, you dirty motherfucker." Antoinette was cumming as she listened to her mother's nasty mouth. She wet her fingers and crushed her clit as her body came savagely.

Jackson watched the panties being pulled up as he fired his load of sperm into the old cunt riding him. Charlotte lost it and grunted through a shattering orgasm driven by the pulsating cock firing long streamers of cum into her.

Antoinette sat back down in her seat in the ballroom. Brenda Sue leaned over, "How's your mama?"

Antoinette whispered, "She'll be okay, she just needed to lie down."

It ten minutes Charlotte returned, just in time to hear the speaker's conclusion. During the break she apologized to those around her for getting dizzy during the talk.

Malcolm came by for another drink order. When he served Antoinette's second cosmopolitan, he whispered, "Nice shoes." Antoinette froze when she realized he knew she had been watching. His merry eyes melted her. She wanted him too.

In the limo on the ride home the women rode most of the way in silence. Finally, the smile on Charlotte's face got to Antoinette.

"Mother, I came looking for you when you went to the rest room."

The old woman turned to her daughter, "Yes?"

Antoinette voice turned cold. "I saw you."

Her mother's grin broadened. "What did you think you saw, dear?"

Antoinette hissed, "You were f'ing that black waiter in the handicapped stall."

"I was, dear? Are you sure?" That maddening grin was plastered on her face.

"Mother, I saw you!" She was so exasperating.

"I don't think so, dear. That would be very crude behavior to leave a mother/daughter banquet to, as you put it "f" a waiter, a handsome black one no less."

"How can you deny you did it?"

"Because, Antoinette, it is the way of the South I grew up in."

"Mother! What does that mean?"

"You see, Annie, when I grew up blacks and whites didn't mix. You're almost old enough to remember when black's couldn't drink at the same water fountain."

"I learned all this in school, Mother!"

"Well, Miss Smarty Pants, let me tell you something you didn't learn in school." Her mother turned toward her. "Southern women when I grew up had to look the other way at the behavior of their men. Their daddies, their granddaddies, and on back, never turned down a chance to hold blacks down. Slavery and Jim Crow go back hundreds of years."

"Mother, what's this got to do with anything?"

"It's got to do with what white women were forced to live with for so many years."

"And what is that?"

"That is their men going out back to satisfy their sexual needs with a colored woman. We were helpless against this violation of our marriage vows. If your father had carried on with the white woman next door there would have been terrible consequences. Public humiliation or perhaps even divorce could have shamed him, but when he went out back and "f'd" as you say a colored woman, we were powerless to protest. As long as the inkwell he dipped his pen in was black, he couldn't be touched."

"So what has this to do with you f'ing the waiter?"

"Revenge."

"Daddy's been dead for almost twenty years! What kind of revenge is that?"

"It's the ultimate revenge to fuck a colored man. While our husbands could have as many colored women they wanted with no consequences, a white woman who fucked a colored man, was tainted, she was damaged goods, she could be cast aside and shunned. So today, when a white woman can fuck a colored man without suffering, it's a grand revenge. The white men all think black men have bigger dicks, and that makes it twice as sweet."